The sun rose on fields
snow blown and misted
ghostly swirls and dervishes.
No fog this---
for fog simply lies.
No---this was living
as it arched and twisted,
fingering out to the road
and reaching for me
like the shade of a beloved friend.
There was white inside,
trying to seep out of pores,
I felt it strain
trying to mesh and meld
with this sentient wraith
fingers touching
joining
and suddenly
I am the morning mist
dancing in the crystal air.

©2006, Lisa Shields

Lisa Shields resides in New Jersey. Her first collection of poetry was released from Iriswhite Publishing in 2005. She has poems in all three of our other seasonal anthologies: “Calling Card” and “Pinked” in the spring collection, “Wisteria Woman” in the summer collection, and “Sweater Weather” in the fall collection.

Next page > “October 19, 1990” by Aldo Tambellini...
Winter Poems collection > table of contents